


the dickbabs baby au.

by thychesters



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Birds of Prey (Comic), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Dick is Nightwing AND in EMT training AND going to be a dad so rip sleep schedule, Dinah loves him and she WILL Rumpelstiltskin him so watch out Dickolas, Domesticity, EMT Dick, F/M, Jim is pretty much Having a Great Time, John Grayson makes his appearance a la The Lion King thanks to Steph, Making Bruce Feel Old because they point out all of his grays and call him grandpa, Mentions of Infertility, Moments of Angst but generally a happier story, Nursery decorating, Pregnancy, it's the dickbabs baby au baby, wherein i negate all the canon i had set up for myself and go and recreate it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27920449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thychesters/pseuds/thychesters
Summary: Telling Dick she’s pregnant is much more stressful than she was hoping it would be.Them telling the rest of their families and friends? Yeah, easier said than done.(it's the dickbabs baby au, baby!)
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson
Comments: 98
Kudos: 205





	1. Chapter 1.

**Author's Note:**

> listen, i just got overly enthused about dickbabs baby and sat down to churn this out last night. there is no update schedule at the moment since i'm going to write this as the wind takes me, or whatever the expression is. or maybe i'll just look at the 'incomplete' fic sitting on my profile and then guilt myself into writing more. as one does.
> 
> will i change the title? probably. so like. there's that, i guess.
> 
> anyway. enjoy!

Telling Dick she’s pregnant is much more stressful than she was hoping it would be.

She’d had a pregnancy scare with Jason Bard years ago, and it wasn’t until a morning spent panicking and the fifth test coming back negative that relief had come, though it had been tinged with a hint of disappointment. Then, a year after that, the Joker had shot her and left her on her own doorstep, leaving her with doctors puttering around her and taking any chances of carrying a family of her own with him. Leslie had come to her, too, breaking the news to her softly and gently, and Barbara had watched her from her bed, stoic.

Her tears had come, fat and hot, and Jason Todd had come to sit at her bedside, squeezing her hand and telling her he’d kill the Joker. There had been anger too, not at the loss per say, but at the option for something she could have wanted somewhere down the line being taken from her.

She hadn’t told Dick at first, not until after one night of fooling around she’d watched his face pale, and his expression had twisted before he said they hadn’t used a condom. Barbara had shrugged because it hadn’t been the first time they’d gone without, and after her previous insistence that it wasn’t totally necessary he hadn’t pushed it, and they hadn’t ventured into territory she wasn’t sure she was ready to discuss. This time, though, he’d apologized, run his hand down his face, and she’d picked at a loose thread on the bedspread and she said he didn’t need to worry about it so much.

“I can’t have kids, Dick,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. To say it aloud made it all too real, and Barbara had never truly sat down and considered children until things had started getting serious with Dick. While they hadn’t broached the subject itself, he’d skirted around the ideas of having his own someday in a wistful tone that said nothing was set in stone, but he wasn’t opposed.

Her throat had been tight and Dick hadn’t said anything at first. They’d spent the rest of the night curled around one another and brought up the idea of adoption, and Barbara had fallen asleep with her head tucked into his neck as she tried to ward off guilt.

“You don’t have to worry about surprises,” she’d murmured, and they hadn’t touched the topic again.

And so now, in the middle of March and a week before Dick’s birthday, Barbara has to put her foot in her mouth.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” she mutters at the third test in a row. The two lines in the first had been too faded to make any sort of guess, and so she’d traveled back to the corner store in the next borough to ensure no one would recognize her. That had been a trip in itself.

Now, three tests sit in a neat little row, each one positive.

“Well, damn.”

Barbara sits back, tugging at her necklace, and takes a breath in an attempt to sooth her nerves.

It does anything but.

\-- --

Waiting for Dick to get home only gives her more time to stress, and she alternates between running her hands through her hair and reorganizing a bookshelf three times. In the background, she runs updates on software. Part of her chastises herself for not being more excited, but she also hasn’t verbalized it yet and made it a reality.

She probably isn’t, anyway. Home tests can give a lot of false positives, can’t they? (Despite cycling through three different brands.)

Barbara glances up at the sound of keys jangling against the door, and Dick smiles by way of greeting as he lets himself in.

“Long time no see,” she says, tone forcibly light as he toes off his shoes and deposits his bag on the floor.

“Hey yourself,” he says before hanging up his coat on the hooks by the door. He bends to kiss her temple, as he always does. His presence is warm and welcome, and Dick straightens again, stretching out with a sigh at the resounding cracks from his back and knee. A quick glance down tells her he isn’t wearing his brace as much as he should, despite Leslie’s insistence it would be in his best interest. 

Dick clears his throat, diverting her attention as he picks up his bag again and makes for the bedroom, chatting amicably about his EMT night course all the while.

“I’ve got about forty hours in. Field training’s definitely more interesting than sitting in a class room for six hours straight, I gotta admit,” he’s saying, and Barbara struggles to focus on his words as he disappears further into the apartment. She moves in the living room partway through him making a crack about how learning CPR and how to make a tourniquet is coming in handy more than he thought it would.

Barbara looks out the window without really seeing anything, and can’t settle between drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair or folding them in her lap. Working her way through a couple deep breathing exercises does little to relax her as she listens to Dick change in the next room. Pragmatic as she is, Barbara very much so enjoys having a plan whenever she can help it. Hell, she has contingency plans for her contingency plans. In theory, telling Dick was much easier than the actual execution is turning out to be.

“So… I’m off tonight and patrol doesn’t start for another couple hours. Any exciting plans for Oracle?” he asks and Barbara turns to watch him wander back into the living area in his pajama clad glory, pushing his hair out of his eyes with a yawn. He quickly tries to mask it with a grin.

“Ah, no, no not really,” she murmurs, but if Dick thinks anything is off he doesn’t say it. 

“Huh, in that case…” He reaches up to scratch the side of his nose, pausing in thought. His grin is soft. “Wanna bum it on the couch for a couple hours before Batman interrupts? We can watch _Jeopardy_ and I can pretend to be affronted when you try to cop a feel.”

“I guess we—” Barbara freezes, narrowing her eyes as Dick moves to mill about the kitchen, opening and shutting cupboards and the fridge like something will appear the more he checks. “Wait, are you just trying to get laid?”

Dick pulls his head back out of the fridge with a pitcher of iced tea in hand. “ _Barbara_ , you think so little of me?” He nudges the door closed. “But I mean… if you want to...”

“Richard.”

“Kidding, kidding,” he says, turning back to the counter after she shakes her head when he offers her a glass.

“Sit for a second, would you? I want to talk to you,” she finally gets out before she loses her nerve, hands gathered in her lip with a grip so tight her knuckles are almost white. Dick turns to regard her with a careful look, one that’s almost guarded, and she feels a sharp pang of guilt at the nod he gives her before rounding the island, leaving his glass behind.

A worry line forms in his brow, giving way to concern as he settles on the couch, elbows resting on his knees as he faces her.

“Babs, everything okay?” he asks, voice soft and hedging on a whisper as he reaches for her and one of his calloused palms curls over her hands where they’re clenched together. His warm fingers give hers a squeeze. “You’ve been off since I got home.”

She watches his eyes dart from one of hers and then to the other before she averts her gaze as anxiety curls into a small ball behind her sternum, small tendrils of it branching out to the rest of her body. Her stomach flips, like the first drop of a rollercoaster and moment that steals one’s breath away and she can’t get it back.

She doesn’t say anything back, and she can all but feel Dick’s apprehension growing.

“Barbara?” he asks, and it’s the same voice he used the last time she broke up with him. She can remember that in excruciating and vivid detail: the fresh bandage on his shoulder, thanks to Alfred; the tarragon in her hair; and the look on his face she’d been too afraid to turn around and see as she left him. His thumb smooths across her knuckle. “Babs, talk to me.”

“I’m pregnant.”

Dick filters through maybe five different emotions before his expression shifts into something more unreadable. If she isn’t mistaken, something like hope flickers through his eyes. He watches her like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, for a _gotcha_ moment and for her to laugh.

He doesn’t speak for a minute, but he never lets go of her hand.

“You aren’t saying anything,” she ventures, anxiety blossoming until it reaches up to her throat. She blinks a few times, and eventually he nods.

“Well shit, really? You’re sure?”

Her throat works and Barbara looks down at their hands. For a split second she imagines another, smaller one, wrapped around her index finger. She closes her eyes.

“Yeah, I…” Barbara swallows and raises her head to meet his gaze again. “Pretty sure.”

Dick purses his lips. He doesn’t look overly upset, but he isn’t exactly jumping for joy, either. Not that Barbara was herself, but, if anything, this is a team effort here. A baby certainly throws a wrench into a couple things and after everything she can’t say she saw one in her future. (That’s not to say she hasn’t thought about it, hasn’t wondered what a child with Dick’s eyes and her nose would look like. That was just a passing fancy of something she couldn’t have. Or at least _thought_ she couldn’t, then.)

“Guess the _how_ is kind of out of the question,” Dick says. He frowns a touch. “Actually, no, that’s probably still a good question, right? Before, you said…”

“That I couldn’t?” Barbara fills in after he trails off, to which he nods again. Her voice is soft when she says: “I didn’t think I could, honestly. After… I just didn’t think it was in the cards. I never planned on something that I didn’t think was ever going to happen— _could_ ever happen.”

Dick’s hand still doesn’t leave hers.

“Well, guess we’re used to things not going as planned.” He lets out a breath she didn’t know he was holding, his exhale a little more forceful like he’s deflating, and then he breaks eye contact. “This is definitely something though. Wow. It’s… it’s a lot, Babs.”

She goes to pull back, all the walls she’s carefully pulled down around him starting to creep back up. This is a lot, she knows this; this isn’t the same as them toying with the idea of sharing an apartment together because he was already over almost every night to begin with. This is a lot more serious than dividing up laundry and dish duty. Their relationship is already delicate enough as it is sometimes, and they’ve only officially been back together a few months now.

If this is not something he’s prepared for… she can’t blame him. She isn’t even sure herself if this is something _she’s_ ready for.

His general lack of reaction leaves a great deal to be desired and gives her little to work with.

“I’ll take care of it,” Barbara murmurs, interrupting Dick’s personal crisis or whatever he’s currently working himself through. “If you don’t want it.”

His eyes snap back to hers. “Babs?”

“No, I don’t mean—I’ll just. I’ll take care of it,” she repeats, straightening a little. It might be an awkward spot to put the both of them in, but now that she’s been presented with the idea of an opportunity she didn’t think she could have, and now that her life is more in order than it was a decade ago, she can’t fathom the idea of… not. “I want to keep it.”

That glimmer of hope returns, and she can’t tell herself it’s just a trick of the light.

“You do?” Dick asks, and her first nod is jerky; her next, tighter.

“I do.”

Dick offers her the ghost of a real smile, and despite her lingering reservations one tugs at the corners of her mouth, too.

“Yeah?” he gets out like he didn’t hear her the first two times, and then his hand leaves hers so he can cup her face with both. He shifts so that he’s on his knees in front of her, thighs bumping the foot rests as he leans into her. Her vision is waterier than she thought it would be, but still she nods into his hands and smiles.

“Yeah,” she manages right before he moves to kiss her, and she can practically feel the tension bleeding from both of them, ebbing its way into something like hesitant relief. Her hands leave her lap and make for his shirtfront, and she can’t tell for certain if the wet spots on her cheeks are from her or him. Dick peppers a series of small kisses around her cheeks and jaw, to which she laughs, and the last one is deeper, lingering.

There is still that anxiety, all those reservations as Dick pulls away, because a few kisses and a smile won’t alleviate all of her worries, but it’s nice to know she isn’t alone in this. A thumb swipes below her eye, catching a stray tear she didn’t realize was there.

“This is you and me, Babs,” he says, whispering between them like they’re kids again and sharing a secret they shouldn’t be.

“You and me,” she echoes while his shirt bunches beneath her fingers. She closes her eyes as Dick leans to rest his forehead against hers. She can feel his gaze wandering across her, finally settling on her stomach despite the layer of cotton and there being nothing to see, yet.

“Do you know how far along?” he asks, and he moves with her as she shakes her head.

“Not too long; just a couple of weeks at most.” Barbara opens her eyes and smooths her hands down his chest, running them back up to rest on his shoulders. “I still need to go to an actual doctor to make sure, but I took a few tests and they all came back positive, so that’s got to be something.”

“I would think so, and I’m going with you,” he says, breath tickling her lip. She can feel the eyelashes she’s always been jealous of brushing against hers. “You took a test without me?”

“I don’t think you wanted to be part of the experience of me peeing on a stick,” she says and then sits back enough that she can truly meet his eyes. Her jaw clenches for a moment. “Besides, I didn’t want to give you any false hope—or any at all until I had some kind of evidence.”

Dick hums and shifts onto his haunches as Barbara makes to move. When he grunts and pulls a face at the twinge in his knee, she gives him a knowing look that he pretends to ignore. He shifts out of the way as she moves her chair though, and puts up little protest after she maneuvers to the couch and pulls him down to join her. Barbara lets him sit and make himself comfortable before she leans into his side, and soon, no thanks to him, they’re a tangle of limbs and she’s unable to tell where she ends and he begins.

Her cheek rests against his chest, where she listens to the steady thrum of his heart and one of his hands glides down her back.

“I don’t want to tell anyone yet,” she says, finally breaking the silence. Beneath her, Dick shifts and she tilts her head along his shoulder. “Just for now, and until we’re certain.”

“I don’t mind keeping secrets.” Their concerns, while unvoiced, do not go unnoticed. It’s too soon, too risky, and Barbara wraps an arm around his chest before settling again. His eyes are soft as he looks down at her, and in them is that gleam of hope she saw traces of earlier. She can feel some of her own, too, bubbling up along the surface to coincide with the relief in that she wasn’t going this alone.

“I love you,” she murmurs, a whispered secret just between the two of them. It isn’t the first time she’s said it since they’d gotten together again, but it still carried the same weight and there was a small thrill she found in saying it.

“I should hope so,” he says around a mock scoff, fingers ghosting back up along her spine to toy with the ends of her hair. “We’ve only just made a baby together.” Barbara narrows her eyes, which Dick only seems to take immense pleasure in when he smiles. The corners of his eyes crinkle; the angle of their next kiss is awkward and she can’t imagine the strain it puts on his neck, but she pulls her hand back in order to reach up and cup his cheek. “Love you too.”

“You better,” Barbara retorts, pulling away to lie down again with an exaggerated sigh. “I only let you put a baby in me.”

“Really glad we’re having _this_ conversation. There is literally nothing I would change about the verbiage, and I know you hate when I use the word literally.”

“I really do,” she mutters, nestling back against his chest. Her teeth bite into her lip as she smiles though, because, and she’s decided, they _did_ make a baby together. They’re having a baby. There’s a thrill that comes with that thought, too, and Dick must notice because his grip on her tightens to match hers on him.

“You _literally_ do.”

“Please stop.”

Dick chuckles softly and his jaw presses against the top of her head. They’re quiet and content, and Barbara’s still nervous, still full of apprehension because who’s to say they can actually do this, and this was not part of her controlled, careful plans. There’s that inkling of dread, too, because she can’t imagine what it would do for the two of them to build up all of these ideas only to be told it was for nothing.

Instead, she works to focus on the here and now.

“You know they’re expecting Oracle to make an appearance in about an hour, right?” she asks against his chest.

“Sure thing,” he says, though neither one of them make any effort to move. If anyone needs her for anything particularly daunting, they all know how to reach her, anyhow. “For now I just want to hold you for a minute.”

Barbara hums, arm shifting like she can pull him any closer. Dick’s still playing with her hair when he pauses, stilling against her, and she cracks an eye open and waits.

“Hey, when we tell everyone, could we maybe _not_ mention the fact I pretty much said _oh shit_ when you told me? Feels like that kind of dampens the mood.”

Barbara starts to laugh, practically vibrating against his chest in a nervous chuckle that gives way to a full blown belly laugh. “No, because I said the same thing!”

Dick sputters, jostling and nearly dislodging her, and then they’re moving again until she presses herself against the back of the couch and he’s balanced precariously on the edge. Her nose crinkles as she grins at him, and he shakes his head against the throw pillow mashed into the arm of the couch.

“Yeah, we’re _definitely_ not saying that.”

“Nah,” Barbara says, reaching up to run her finger along the slope of his nose. Maybe the baby will have his and it’ll be adorned with a smattering of freckles like the ones she used to try to hide. “I’ll just tell my dad you said that.”

He nips at her finger. “Hope you like sleeping on the couch, Barbara.”

“We’ll see,” she hums through a grin, and his hand curls around her hip.

“Yeah, yeah I guess we will.”


	2. Chapter 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Barbara pay a visit to the family doctor; someone else gets the news a little prematurely.

They end up borrowing Sarah’s car to get to the appointment with Leslie at the end of the week. Initially she’d considered going elsewhere if it came down to it, but a quick call to Leslie and a comment that it would be good to see one another and catch up later, and Barbara has an appointment at 9:00 sharp on Friday morning.

Which, of course, means she’s been awake since six and Dick, curled around her as he was, had shortly followed suit.

She glances to where he sits in the driver’s seat, drumming on the steering wheel and fighting to keep a smile at bay. There’s a tiny buzz of excitement he tries not to let get to him, a sort of nervous energy that has him struggling to sit still in his seat. They don’t have a definitive answer just yet—they will in about an hour, and windshield wipers interrupt his reverie.

It’s raining, of course, because isn’t it always, but that does little to dampen his mood.

“I’d ask what’s on your mind over there, but I’m not big on obvious questions,” Barbara muses, and Dick turns to find her leaning against the window with a bemused grin. The way she holds herself tells him she isn’t quite as relaxed as she’d like someone to think she is, and his eyes dart back to the road as he reaches over and takes her hand.

Her fingers are cool against his as they curl, and he presses a fleeting kiss against the backs of her knuckles as they roll to a stop.

“You know no matter what they tell us, we’re still in this together, right?” Dick asks as the red light glares down at them. He shoots her a glance as the wipers work again. He catches her nodding, and her free hand works its way through her hair. The other gives his a squeeze.

The rest of the drive is quiet, aside from the rain against the windshield and the easy listening station from one of Sarah’s presets oozing through the speakers at a low volume. There is still a great deal left unspoken even after their lengthy discussion the other night, and Dick can practically hear Barbara’s words sticking in her throat, but he doesn’t press, too busy contending with his own.

Getting into the lot and out of the car isn’t as smooth a process as he would have hoped, and he only hovers beside her with the umbrella as Barbara transfers from the car to her chair. At most she’d allowed him to extract it from the backseat, but that was only because neither one of them was used to the car and there had been little room left in the trunk.

“You ready?” he asks as she situates herself. Truth be told there’s a note of hesitation to his voice, too, and there’s a brief pause before she nods.

As they step into the lobby and Dick shakes out the umbrella, he tries not to think about what it would do to either of them to have their hopes dashed. He’s more than a little attached to the idea of them having a child together—to lose that would be more crushing than he wants to admit.

“Good morning,” the receptionist behind the desk chirps, and Dick catches a glance of her name tag (Debi) before she’s already turning her attention to Barbara.

Her voice is strong, and even as she schools herself, Dick has known her long enough to detect when her nerves bleed through: she says “ah” before her greeting, and her tone is a bit clipped between “Barbara Gordon. Here to see Leslie Thompkins.”

Debi smiles and says Leslie will be right with them; Dick adjusts his collar before he nods to her and then he and Barbara retreat to the waiting area. Barbara’s hands clench and Dick needs something to do with his, so after some initial resistance she passes the clipboard over to him to fill out her paperwork.

As Barbara leans back in her chair and lets out a breath, he skirts through the preliminaries with a practiced ease before deciding they need some way to entertain themselves and keep their nerves at bay while they wait.

“Mother’s maiden name?”

“Kean,” she says after a beat of silence and shooting him a glance.

“Name of your childhood pet or street you grew up on?” he continues, dragging the end of the pen down the row of checkboxes below family medical history.

“You want my social security number too while you’re at it?” Barbara deadpans, raising an eyebrow. For a second Dick considers gnawing on the pen cap as he nods, but then he also doesn’t know where it’s been.

“That would be super helpful, if you don’t mind.”

“Are you going after my bank accounts too?”

Dick huffs, sliding back in his seat. He rolls his head on his shoulders to meet her bemused look with a lopsided grin. “Not just the bank accounts—I’m coming for everything, baby.”

“Hmm. You should you’re ready for a custody battle, Grayson?” she says, and he doesn’t get a chance to retort when she turns away from him to greet Leslie. She sits up straighter, and Dick climbs back to his feet as she smiles and makes her way over to them. The lines in her face have grown more pronounced, but then life in Gotham will age anyone, and she carries herself with a sort of dignified grace that’s hard to come by in their line of work.

“I would have had one of the nurses come get you, but I wanted to see you for myself,” Leslie says, moving to envelope Barbara in a hug. “I hope you all realize you can all come see me for reasons that aren’t purely medical.”

“Hey doc,” Dick says as he goes to embrace her next, and there’s something familial in it before she pulls away.

“Have you been eating? You look stressed,” she says, and while Barbara rolls her eyes out of view he almost laughs. She doesn’t know the half of it. Leslie takes a step back and eyes them both down before her gaze settles on Barbara again. “Well, let’s go get you settled, shall we? Dick, you’ll be alright out here?”

He waffles for a moment, and for a split second something like fear passes through Barbara’s eyes before she steels herself again. His nod is slow, hesitant, and conceding. If things come back negative and she thinks having him wait in anticipation will lessen the blow, he doesn’t know, but he isn’t about to cause a scene in the middle of the waiting room.

“Yeah. Yeah I’ll… be here,” he says, and then firmly: “Let me know as soon as you need me though?”

“Of course,” Barbara says, taking his hand. He bends down to kiss her on instinct; it’s short and chaste, but it alleviates some of the tension that comes with waiting.

He watches her go, and even then smiles to himself, just a little.

\-- --

The problem with waiting is that Dick is not a very patient person.

Checking the time on his phone every twenty seconds doesn’t make the time pass any faster, and another check reminds him that it’s still Roy’s turn in Words with Friends. He checks in on an Instagram and then Twitter account he never uses, and then shoves his phone back into his pocket before flipping through an array of magazines on the table in the middle of the chairs before growing bored with that too. The medical pamphlets at least look interesting, so he snags a couple of those to read and then reread. The entire time his leg bounces so hard he’s afraid he might just vibrate off his chair. It feels like he’s been waiting hours, but maybe all of ten minutes have passed.

Dick’s halfway through a brochure on signs of gastrointestinal disorders (great) when a familiar voice catches his attention, and one he can’t say he was expecting.

“Oh my stars and garters, if you aren’t a sight for sore eyes.”

He glances up, setting aside the pamphlets, and gets to his feet again to find Stephanie approaching him.

“Stars and garters, huh?” he parrots, and she only rolls her eyes as he meets her halfway for a hug.

“Shut up, I’m running on E and between all of us, you and I are the only ones who can say stupid things and make it work.” He can feel her chin digging into his shoulder as she smiles, and then he pulls back to stand to his full height again when she lets go. She tilts her head with a conspiratorial stage whisper: “Holy bologna, Batman, better get this bat-evidence to the Batcomputer pronto!”

Despite the sly dig, he still snickers at that. Pleased with herself, she reaches up to adjust her ponytail, scrubs bunching up as she does.

“Might be asking the obvious, but what brings you here?”

“Leslie’s got me on clinicals,” she says through her scrunchie, digging her teeth into the elastic. When she closes her eyes and grimaces at the sharp tug she just gave her hair, Dick glances over her shoulder and down the hall. There’s been no sign of Barbara or Leslie yet, and he can’t say he’s exactly enjoying sitting and waiting in anticipation. “It’s actually been pretty interesting so far and a nice change of pace. Plus, I can’t say I’m too mad about a quiet morning in Gotham. Got to finish my coffee at least, for the first time in like two weeks.” She pauses to frown, dropping her hands. “What are you doing here?”

Excited but nervous, he almost considers blurting out why, but it isn’t just his news to share.

“Babs needed a ride,” he says. While omitting a few key details, it isn’t a total lie.

“Not a bad Uber driver,” she muses, rocking back on her heels with a nod. “Hope she gives you a five star rating. If not, you can always give her a one star customer review and say she ate all of your snacks.” At his weak, distracted laugh, Steph rolls up the sleeves of her undershirt. From anyone else the scrutinizing look would have him frowning and his skin crawling, but there’s something softer about hers. “You okay, by the way? You look a little tense—more than usual.”

Dick raises an eyebrow, trying to keep an eye on the hallway. Steph shrugs a little. “Do I always look tense?”

“Don’t we all? The corner of her mouth rises in a wry grin.

Before she has the chance to press, he continues: “Just tired; feel like I’m spread a little thin, honestly.” _And waiting to see if his girlfriend is definitely pregnant or not._ He’d already double checked to find that for some offices results could vary from hours to days. Maybe luck and the money Bruce has funneled into this place is on their side. “Between class, patrol, and everything else, I think I’ve slept maybe four hours in the past week.”

What she doesn’t need to know is that a good part of that was also spent staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep, or spitballing ideas for a potential future with Babs. Steph nods anyway.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll bet. You still doing the gymnastics lessons at the rec. center? The place on Broad?”

“On Mondays and Thursdays. You should stop by sometimes if you’re up for it. I’m sure the kids would love to see you,” he says. Behind her, a door opens down the hall, and he watches Leslie step out of Barbara’s room before closing it behind her. His heart hammers in his chest and he’s pretty sure his palms are sweaty and clammy. Steph only hums and mutters something about how she’s sure the kids would love to hear the stories about her cleaning bedpans, but she glances back to wave to Leslie.

Both of them get a smile in return, but it isn’t much for Dick to work with. For all he knows it’s just a polite, quiet greeting.

“Hey, are you up for a study session, maybe? At some point?” Steph says in a rush, like she can’t get the words out fast enough before they’re interrupted. Her eyebrows pull together. “I was gonna ask Tim or Cass, but I kinda like the idea of flashcards and maybe studying with someone who’s in the same boat and gets it. And gets weird schedules.”

“Oh yeah, you got it. Just let me know when,” he says, but if she finds his cadence off she doesn’t call him on it. She shoots a glance back to Leslie.

“Sup, doc,” she says once she’s in earshot, and she gets a motherly kind of eye roll.

“Aren’t you still on rotation?” she asks, arms folded. A file dangles from her fingertips and Dick can’t tell if he wants to sneak a peek right then and there as anticipation threatens to get the best of him. Right now Dr. Leslie Thompkins is the only person in the world who can definitively tell Dick and Barbara if they’re going to be parents. Steph purses her lips.

“Only for the next six hours. There was a gentleman causing a scene in the waiting room,” she shoots a glance to Dick with a grin, “but I think I got it all sorted out.”

“Glad you’re here to keep us afloat.” Leslie glances between them both as Steph clicks her tongue and offers two thumbs up. “Mr. Grayson, if you have a minute? I have your results.”

She doesn’t call him that—none of them do, really, unless they’re trying to get under his skin. His mouth feels dry and he has to clear his throat. The remark catches Steph’s attention though, and he doesn’t miss her glance from the file Leslie’s carrying and then back to him, and then toward the hall in her peripherals; he isn’t sure how many pieces she’s puzzled together.

She sucks in a breath through her teeth. Dick stares down the file.

“Well, that’s my cue,” Steph says, taking a step back and pivoting on her heel. There’s a gleam in her eye Dick doesn’t get a chance to place, and as she retreats she calls back over her shoulder, “Tell Babs I’m still up for Monday night poker night, would you?”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Dick gets out a laugh. He quickly swallows it back down as he meets Leslie’s eyes again, and at her behest follows him back to Barbara’s room. It’s all of a thirty second jaunt, if that, but somehow it feels like the longest walk of Dick’s life. He runs his hands over his jeans under the guise of smoothing out invisible wrinkles, and he only ducks into the room after Leslie nods for him to go first.

She hasn’t said anything since Steph walked away, and he can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not.

On the exam table, Barbara’s head whips around to face him, paper crinkling beneath her, and Dick beelines toward her as the door clicks shut.

In order to alleviate the tension, he tells her, “Ran into Steph; said she’s looking forward to poker night.”

“We’re not doing poker night,” she mutters, reaching for his free hand while his other settles on her upper back, rubbing at the space between her shoulder blades before running down her spine. Beneath his hand her skin is warm but tense. Her brow furrows and she glances up to him as Leslie moves to the counter. “Where did you see Stephanie?”

“In the waiting room; she said she’s putting in clinical hours,” he says, and on the other side of the room Leslie hums and captures both their attention again.

“As much as I’d love to regale you with tales of my nursing students, I don’t think that’s your main interest here.” She raises an eyebrow at them both with a slight grin, but Dick focuses on her eyes again. He doesn’t detect any hints of sorrow or remorse, or even overt joy. If anything there’s a mild hint of hesitance to the way she holds herself, like she isn’t totally sure how they’re going to take the news and he isn’t sure what Barbara’s told her.

Dick rubs his thumb over the back of her hand, and Barbara takes a breath.

“No, no not really.”

Leslie nods, and he’s about to tell her to please stop building up the suspense already when:

“In that case, I think a congratulations is in order for the new parents.”

A number of emotions bubble up and boil over the surface all at once at that: nerves, excitement, a dash of fear, all quickly overshadowed with a rush of relief and something Dick can’t discern as either pride or utter joy.

“Oh my god,” Barbara says before he does, and he stumbles for a second before using the exam table as support. Barbara’s free hand reaches up to cover her mouth, and Leslie’s face splits into a wide smile as he buries his face in her hair, hand leaving her back to wind an arm around her waist.

Barbara shifts until he can hold her against him, until she has her arms wrapped around his shoulders and his face tucked into her hair and neck as he squeezes his eyes shut. There’s a prickling sensation along the backs of his eyelids, and his breath shakes as her grip tightens. He thinks he might get out a nod as behind him Leslie says she’ll give them both a moment to process while she goes to check on another patient, but she’ll come back to touch base and go over everything with them.

“Holy shit, we actually did it,” Barbara’s murmuring as Dick pulls away, red and black strands sticking to his cheeks and forehead. She reaches up to brush a few away from his temple before he takes her face in both his hands.

“We did, we—Barbara, holy shit, this is amazing,” he manages to get out, and since he can barely fight his grin his first kiss is all teeth when he leans in. The next is not so much, and the emotions warring for dominance is almost overwhelming. He couldn’t pull her closer if he tried. “I love you so much.”

She rests her forehead against his, fingers closing over his wrists. Her eyes are bright, shiny, and what tears haven’t already left tracks on her cheeks gather in the corners of them. “I love you too,” she laughs. “And good, because there’s no way I’d be letting you get out of this one.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispers, gaze dropping to her stomach though there’s nothing to show just yet.

Leslie knocks on the door, and Dick straightens a little to scrub a hand down his face as Barbara tries to fix her hair and tells her to come in. Only it isn’t Leslie, and Steph gives them a brief look of confusion. In one hand she holds Dick’s umbrella, and in the other a file she leaves on the counter.

“You left this in the waiting room,” she starts, gaze passing between the two of them. He can only imagine the condition they’re in and the utter messes they both look like, and he takes a breath as Barbara goes to speak. The umbrella hits the floor with a wet clatter and Steph covers her mouth with her hands and downright _giggles_. “ _Oh my god_ —are you...?”

After a beat, Barbara can barely get out a nod before Steph is throwing herself at her, winding an arm around her shoulders with a shriek. Dick grunts when she reaches up to loop an arm around him and drag him down too, but he’s laughing when Leslie comes in and says it shouldn’t surprise her that the sounds of a commotion always lead her back to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're back, baby! while i have some vague ideas, i'm definitely just winging 90% of this fic, lmao. not too much happens in this chapter, but. we'll be getting places. eventually. 
> 
> things that are worth noting in this fic as whole:  
> -sarah essen is barbara's step-mother (not legally, but for all intents and purposes, yeah)  
> -i imagine leslie as rita moreno? i don’t know why but i do  
> -steph is a nursing student and seeing as dick is in emt training she WILL make a study buddy of him yet
> 
> thank you all for reading! hope you enjoy.


	3. Chapter 3.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leslie pitches the idea of the two of them getting an ultrasound; when they get back to her apartment, Barbara has a proposition for Dick.

She’s seven weeks along, as it turns out.

Leslie walks them through the basics: what to watch out for, what to expect. Given the conditions of their lives—vigilantism isn’t exactly forgiving—she reminds them that a few precautions couldn’t hurt anything.

“Dammit,” Barbara mutters when Leslie mentions avoiding smoking, and at the startled looks she receives from both of them gets out a quick: “I was _joking_ , geez.”

She suggests a few prenatal vitamins to consider, but most of what else they rattle through is common knowledge, or things Leslie says she assumes Barbara almost knows with a good-natured eye roll.

Beside her, Steph beams at them with a certain sheen to her eyes that Barbara thinks isn’t just joy or excitement, but something with a hint of nostalgia that comes with a pang.

Steph’s quick to promise not to tell when they mention it, excited as she is. It’s their news to share, she says, and it goes unspoken she understands their concerns too, early as it is. She makes Barbara promise to fill her in though, let her know if she needs anything, and that she’ll be stopping by more often, as if her visits aren’t regular enough. Barbara tells her it’s appreciated, more than she knows, and Steph swallows and nods, and Dick lets go of Barbara’s hand for a moment to offer them some privacy with their embrace.

Barbara rubs a hand down the space between her shoulder blades and gives her an extra moment. If Steph has to wipe at her eyes as she pulls away, none of them say anything, though Leslie subtly passes them both tissues.

“I take it scheduling your first ultrasound isn’t out of the question?” Leslie asks around a grin, and Dick perks up at that, fingers meeting hers again with a squeeze. Steph ducks out with a small wave and comment about getting back to clinicals because _some_ people work. Leslie clicks her tongue and waves her off.

“You can do one that soon?” he asks, voice catching. Barbara rubs her thumb across the back of his knuckles. Her heart pounds against her rib cage, breaking into a sort of fluttering sensation that almost takes her own breath away.

“You can, depending on soon you’re ready to do one,” she says. “I’m not the one who would do it, of course, but I can offer you a few referrals.”

“Yes,” Barbara blurts and nods. Besides her, Dick drags in a shaky inhale. It’s one thing to think she’s pregnant, one to get a set answer, and another matter entirely to actually see the life they’ve created together.

She rubs her free hand over her stomach. Right now their baby is about the size of a blueberry, small enough to roll around the palm of her hand. There’s nothing noticeable about it yet, no gentle swell to her stomach or physical evidence. A gentle swooping sensation takes hold as she draws in a breath.

“As soon as possible, if we can.” Dick’s voice is soft as the corner of his mouth quirks into a smile. She pulls her bottom in between her teeth as she glances up at him.

Leslie regards them with a calm, warm air as she picks up her paperwork. “I’ll give you a few numbers to call so you can meet your baby.”

\-- --

Originally, they’d considered stopping out for breakfast after the appointment, but instead elect to go home since neither one thinks they can really contain themselves, and causing a scene at Pauli’s diner didn’t seem ideal for a number of reasons. Mostly because it would be a public spectacle, and word travels fast in Gotham when someone doesn’t want it to.

Barbara had let him carry her across the threshold to the apartment, let him twirl her around as she threw her head back and laughed. The kiss he’d given her had been searing, an outpour of love and every other emotion, too many to name, and she’d clung to him as if she could have pulled him any closer.

Now, she sits at the kitchen table, folding her arms against the surface and watching him flit about the kitchen. There’s a different air to him as he moves, lighter, like a weight’s been lifted. She leans against the worn wood where he’d told her to make herself comfortable as he took command of the kitchen. He hums to himself as he tosses eggshells in the bin.

“Don’t burn my eggs,” she says to Dick where he stands over the stove. The smell of bacon wafts around her small kitchen.

“I’m not gonna _burn_ your eggs,” he mutters, and there’s a pause before he tilts his head and glances back at her. Barbara scowls at the look in his eyes. “The one, though…”

“Don’t you even.”

“I’m just saying—”

“I know what you’re saying, but I don’t want you to say it.” Dick pulls a face, sticking his tongue out, and goes back to sprinkling pepper on the eggs. 

She shifts to rest her chin on her hand, fighting the urge to help despite his strict instructions that she was to do anything but.

“It’s amazing to me how with Leslie you can probably get an ultrasound appointment in the span of like three days,” he says as he flips strips of bacon, “but I call the dentist and they can’t see me for two months. The wonders tossing the name Wayne into a conversation will do,” he grumbles, flashing her a quick look that she raises her eyebrows at. “You know people treat that like a personality trait? _You think I’m a douche but_ I _know Bruce Wayne!_ No shit, you too? I only got driving lessons from the guy and used to rope him and Alfred into having breakfast with me, but whatever.”

“You got driving lessons from him?” Barbara asks, because frankly right now she can only imagine Batman behind the wheel of the Batmobile, telling Robin what button does what but not to touch anything.

Then again, he probably learned how to drive the Batmobile before an actual car.

“Hell yeah, I almost took out a hedgerow,” he chuckles. “Thought Alfred was gonna have a coronary and then told us to both come inside before we caught a cold. Mind you this was in the middle of July.”

“Must have been where Jason got all of his driving gimmicks from.” Barbara muses, hand gliding across the table until she can reach over and trace along the indents in the vase in the middle of it. “He used to tell me he asked Bruce about the PRNDL and thought he was going to keel over.”

“No way, he used the PRNDL joke? I’m so proud of him.” Dick’s laughing at the counter—sputtering out AM or FM—hopping between flipping the eggs over and buttering the toast. “Wait, wasn’t Jason like… fifteen?”

“Something like that.”

“Damn, Bruce is endorsing underage driving? Not only without a license, but a permit, too?”

“You want me to tell my dad so he can retroactively charge him?”

“Hell yeah I wanna tattle on him,” Dick grumbles. “Take that, you one-percenter.”

“Do you have my breakfast yet or not?”

“So demanding already, and we’re barely into the first trimester,” he mutters to himself; Barbara drums the fingers of her free hand on the tabletop as he transfers the eggs to the plates.

She sighs into the (albeit brief) lull of their conversation and decides well, that just won’t do.

“We’re not throwing a gender reveal party, are we?”

He gives her a flat look at the comment. “I know you’re white, Babs, but I didn’t think you were _that_ white.”

Barbara pulls a face at him around a scoff, and Dick just shoots her a grin as turns back to the stove to double check the progress of the almost-done bacon. 

“I, on the other hand, am what a number of young adult authors would describe as sun kissed caramel. Or something else that sounds like a crayon with too many names, not unlike purple mountain’s majesty, which is just a fancy way of saying light purple.”

She can’t help a snicker or two, or a full blown laugh, stifling it behind her hands because of the delivery alone. He’s all teeth before he clicks off the cooktop.

“That was incredibly poetic,” she drawls, sitting up a little straighter as Dick makes his way toward the table, plates in hand, wheat toast and all. A bowl of strawberries sits tucked into the crevice off his elbow, and he at least allows her to take that from him as he sets a late breakfast before her.

“You know, I think brunch usually calls for mimosas,” he says cheekily. 

Barbara hums. “I think I could go for a good mimosa—in about thirty weeks, give or take.”

“I’ll just drink enough for the both of us,” Dick offers before returning to the fridge, “because if someone has to take one for the team, I’d like to volunteer. Nothing like getting sloshed at breakfast.”

“My hero,” she says, hands over her heart. She smiles though, and it’s one Dick returns as he reaches for two glasses at her nod. What she doesn’t joke is that she’d have _two_ babies to look after.

It’s a little early still (think a good seven months premature), but in the middle of pouring himself a nice healthy glass of OJ, Dick squints and says: “Should we have some name ideas? We could follow the weird route a lot of rich people take and name them after an object. Or a verb. What about something like Chrysanthemum?”

“We are not naming our baby Chrysanthemum.” Barbara frowns as he stares the carton down for a moment before putting it away. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to remember how to spell it.”

Barbara raises an eyebrow, pushing bits of crumbs left from the crust of her toast around on her plate. “C-h-r-y-s-a-n-t-h-e-m-u-m.”

“I don’t like how you rattled that off so fast.”

“You should just respect my skill set,” she says with a sniff, and Dick shoves the juice carton back into the fridge with a flourish and exaggerated scoff. He tromps his way back to the table, sliding her her glass before taking his seat with a shrug.

“I didn’t say I didn’t respect it, I said I didn’t like it.”

Rather than attack his food with his usual gusto reserved for the occasions they actually get to eat together, he quietly pushes a bit of egg white around on his plate in thought. She gives him some time, working through her own thoughts. Her hand slides off the table and to her stomach, and the flicker of Dick’s eye tells her the movement hasn’t gone unnoticed.

She’s still nervous, pressing her tongue to the back of her teeth. She’s not without her reservations still or all of her concerns still left unvoiced. As much as she loves Dick and the idea of this being their future together, there is a part of her, no matter how small, that sits and waits for the other shoe to drop. Maybe he’ll change his mind, maybe they hit another roadblock six months in; either way she knows, realistically, she could do this by herself, but in her heart of hearts the idea of Dick not being by her side the first time she holds their child terrifies her.

The bacon has lost its appeal. She chews it for too long before finally swallowing and it unsettles her stomach.

As she raises her glass, Dick clears his throat.

“I can hear you thinking over there,” he says, and switches his fork to his left hand as he reaches over into the minute space between them. His palm is spread wide toward the ceiling, fingers curling slightly in offering. The calluses and scars lining his palm and inside of his knuckles catch in the sunlight streaming through the living room window. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Penny for yours?” she returns as she reaches up, hand leaving her stomach to close around his. It’s warm and inviting, and as she meets his gaze it leaves her wondering how she could ever have any doubts.

“When I said this was you and me, I meant it, Babs,” he says, feet of his chair dragging against the tile as he moves. His gaze, open and honest as it is, is steady and strong as she pushes aside her plate. “The only way you’re getting me out of this is if you shove me through that door and tell me you never want anything to do with me again,” he says, leaning in, “so… do you want me gone?”

“No.”

“Well… good,” he breathes out, deflating. A hand drags through his hair, shaggier than it’s been in the past. He ducks away for a second, and as he does Barbara reaches over to cup his face.

“Dick, I want this with you more than anything,” she says with more conviction than she thought she could muster given the way her heart pounds. She forces him to meet her gaze again. “But at the same time I need you to understand that while this is still new to both of us, I still need a little time to totally wrap my head around it. I want this with you, this life I didn’t plan on, this baby I didn’t think I _could_ …”

Barbara closes her eyes, fingers curling tighter around his.

“I’m completely terrified out of my mind, but I love you, and I love this little blueberry baby of ours, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything.”

Despite himself, she can feel his lopsided grin against her hand, eyes bright when she opens hers.

“I’m definitely calling them that,” he says, twisting just so to press a kiss to her palm. Barbara sighs, shaking her head, though she smiles.

She purses her lips for a second, just as Dick leans in, winding a hand around the back of her neck for a quick kiss. Or what he intends to be quick, at least, because then she pulls him toward her again, and she gives him little time to get his bearings when her teeth drag across his lip.

“Breakfast is getting cold,” he mumbles against her, though that doesn’t stop him from tilting his head. Nor does it stop him from kissing her again, one that makes her dizzy and her head spin but has her chasing after.

“Not hungry anymore,” she says, waiting for a remark from him that well, she has to eat, doesn’t she, and doesn’t give him the chance to as she loops her arm around her shoulders and gives him the go ahead to slip one under her knees and lift. “Fly me to the moon, Boy Wonder.”

“And back,” he says, nudging a kitchen chair out of the way.

\-- --

“I gotta say, of all the birthday gifts you could have gotten me, this tops anything else,” Dick says, and Barbara rolls her head against his shoulder to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Midday sex before noon? Who knew you were so easy,” she deadpans and is met with a snort and a laugh he fights. There are still a good five days until his birthday anyway. “I didn’t get you a gift.”

She catches a flash of teeth. “Even better.”

He drags his fingers up her arm, fingertips ghosting along the freckles dotting her bicep as she stretches out beside him, feeling warm, light, and languid. Dick’s head lazily rolls across the pillow so he can peek back down at her out of the corner of his eye. He moves then, after a minute, until their legs tangle together, fingers trailing along her stomach in a way that raises goosebumps and she tries not to flinch away because she’s ticklish. Her teeth close over her lip as his palm curls over his belly button, looking amused himself at her reaction.

It fades after a moment, and his gaze flickers to hers and then down to just below where the sheets have pooled.

“This, Babs,” he says, hypothetical pillow talk from what feels like eons ago giving way to something a little more real. Tangible. “I’m excited. Hopeful.”

His voice, soft, comes out in a rush, like it’s a secret only the two of them are supposed to know. He shifts on her mattress until he can properly loop an arm around her waist. Barbara presses a kiss to the damp hair plastered against his crown.

One hand draws nonsensical patterns against his back, tracing along the scars and pockmarks she knows by heart. He wears them like small reminders, though some stories are easier to tell and other burdens to bear.

She’s quiet, listening to the sounds of his even breathing, before she blurts: “Move in with me.”

Dick’s head twists against her shirtfront as he raises it, and then his chin is pressed against her sternum. “Babs?”

“I mean it,” she says, nodding. “For one thing, you’re over here enough to begin with, and this isn’t exactly new to us—you were more than comfortable in the kitchen, and this isn’t uncharted territory. It would lessen your commute to class from Blüdhaven, and you wouldn’t have to worry about awkwardly asking to crash here after eight hours of field work and another six of patrol. Plus…” her hand leaves his back to gesture vaguely toward her abdomen, where Dick still has an arm slung around her. “Well, it just makes sense.”

From the way Dick watches her in silence, she’s worried she’s overstepped.

“Not that you have to, of course,” she says, stilling beneath him.

“You think I’m awkward?”

“Dick.”

“Babs, pragmatic as always,” he says, and she can feel his smile before she sees it. There’s a note of hesitation to it too, though. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t,” she says.

He pulls away just enough to crawl back up the short space between them so she can pull him down to kiss him properly.

Barbara hums against his mouth. “That sounds like a yes to me.”

“I’ll take it into consideration,” he says into her lip and she reaches up to brush hair away from his eyes. They’re bright in a way that has nothing do with the sunlight from her—their—bedroom window. His next kiss is longer. “Gotta say, once you started rattling off the benefits I half-expected you to pull out a bar graph.”

“What do you take me for?” she mumbles, and Dick pulls away enough to let her sit up and readjust her shirt from where it’s ridden up. “I had a pie graph and PowerPoint all set and ready to go.”

“Ohh, a pie graph. Now I’m intrigued.” He climbs back to his feet, moving away from the side of the bed enough that she can reach for her glasses and chair.

Barbara laughs but then pauses. She tilts her head, considering, and then drags her hair back out of her face into one of her messier buns.

“Y’know, we should probably talk though,” she says, glancing over to find Dick stepping back into his jeans. They’re about to his knees when he looks back at her. “About the baby in general and all that entails, but also our… night jobs.”

Dick’s lips purse a little.

“I’m not going to ask you to give up Nightwing,” she says before she can let that notion take hold. “I would never ask that of you, just like I know you’d never ask me to let go of Oracle. They’re both important to us and a huge part of who we are. And we still have a few months to figure things out.”

“I don’t think Nightwing not making an appearance with the six other vigilantes on the roster and another three in the wings would hurt anything,” he says before hastily adding: “Hopefully.”

Dick stands, holding a hand up for the shirt she tosses his way. “To be honest… I don’t think I could just stop cold turkey. I’ve been doing this for almost my entire life—a good two decades here, so to not…” he trails off, pausing, and Barbara makes the transfer from the bed to her chair after working her own jeans back on. Might as well wear them while she can, she thinks. When he meets her eyes again, there’s a grim sort of determination in them. “But I’m also not going to risk my child not knowing their father, or have them going to bed every night afraid it was the last we had together. You and I have already dealt with that enough—I can’t do the same to them. I won’t.”

The line of his jaw tightens and Barbara thinks about how many nights she’s spent watching her screens with a morbid fascination; how many nights she’s spent feeling like she can’t breathe, like there’s a part of her missing until she knows all of her operatives are safe and sound. She’d once said sending Dinah out was like sending part of herself, and so then it was the same for Helena, for Zinda, even for Charlie.

Even when they weren’t together, she worried for Dick’s safety. Maybe she worried about it more, then, because even if she always left a window unlocked, just in case, her place wasn’t his joke to come back to.

Barbara wheels herself beside him after he’s finished tugging his shirt back over his head.

“We don’t have to have all of the answers right now, it’s just something we need to consider,” she says, reaching for the hand at his side. Her finger presses against a callus, and for a moment she imagines both of his hands cradling a small infant with a mop of messy black hair and her nose.

Dick lets out a breath, but he smiles at her. Right now the extra key on his key ring, one of her spare ones, is his key for home. He still has his apartment in Blüdhaven, though it’s likely been a few weeks at most since he was last there; he also has the penthouse still thanks to Bruce not leaping at the chance to take it back. It’s a barely decorated place that’s a rollover from his days as Batman he’d muttered was his glorified bachelor pad just the other day.

This is a start.

“Figure it out with me?” he asks. Barbara starts to laugh.

“Oh honey, you don’t have a choice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my initial plan for this chapter was that they went home, had the conversation at the end earlier, and then they told jim. as you can see, that didn't happen because two just would not shut up. this chapter is more filler than anything, and i almost wrote a sex scene but then backed out of that, LMAO.
> 
> to those of you who celebrate: merry christmas! consider this my holiday gift to everyone. thank you guys for reading and for your support!


	4. Chapter 4.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick pays a visit to his parents to tell them the good news. Jim finds out too, but that's not without letting either one of them panic a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! so i finally have somewhat of a plan with this one, and if it seems like i'm rushing others finding out they're expecting... yes i am. no i'm not. i am. you saw nothing. xo. dick's birthday is going to be equal parts joyous and stressful. so like any other birthday, really.
> 
> also want to give a bit of a warning for the beginning of this chapter! we're off the angst train for a while after it, but i want to point out that it deals with a visit to the cemetery and him talking to his parents. it's not too long or too, too heavy, but it may not be for everyone. (if you want to skip it just scroll until you see "Afternoon, Commissioner" when jim appears !) if you've read [the sun shines in gotham.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26690488) the general tone between the two is similar!
> 
> thank you all again!

Dick waits until Barbara leaves to take back Sarah’s car and meet with her father to duck out of the apartment. He’d been invited to join them but had declined, thinking they were due for a father-daughter day, and he had a private matter of his own to attend to. He walks most of the way there rather than take his bike, much to the chagrin of his knee, deciding he’ll regret not having done so about halfway back as he hops between public transit. It gives him time to think, anyway.

The air warms as he steps onto the cemetery grounds, the breeze carrying the transition of late winter into early spring, but his throat tightens as he stuffs his hands into his pockets. It’s quiet, of course, the din of traffic giving way to his footfalls as he makes his way toward the far side of the cemetery.

The plot, while well-kept, is fairly nondescript, bold enough so as not to get lost amongst the rest of the headstones, but subtle enough they don’t call too much attention to themselves. Mary and John’s names peer back at him as Dick bends to brush away a few stray leaves and a twig or two. Seeing their names is still surreal, each time just as jarring as the last, and his finger traces along the end of the word _Beloved_. 

For a moment there’s a swell of anger, resentment clawing at his throat because this isn’t fair, still, it never is; this conversation should not be so one-sided. His mom should meet her grandchild and fawn over Babs in delight. Dad should smile in the way that has his eyes crinkling in the corners with crow’s feet and gray hairs he doesn’t want to admit to. His child’s knowledge of their grandparents should not be limited to mere stories, the memories Dick clings to, terrified at the mere prospect of losing nearly twenty years after the fact.

Clearing his throat, he stands. “Hey guys, got some news for you. Probably more exciting than last time.”

As per usual, he doesn’t get a response, and so Dick lets out a breath and he shoves his hands back in his pockets.

“So, uh, I had a lot of time to mull it over on the way over here, but… man, I still haven’t said it out loud yet, y’know? That makes it real. Babs and Leslie already said it, but.” His voice catches and he has to clear his throat again. “I’m gonna be a dad.”

It hits him, then, again, and it’s a notion he doesn’t think he’ll ever quite get used to. He’s more excited than nervous, still jittery because this is _real_ and it’s happening, but excitement wins out over everything else. He can remember the look on Barbara’s face when she told him, the forcibly composed way she held herself because she’s never one to let her guard down, and he knows she was waiting for his reaction to let her own slip, and that had been uncharted waters to navigate through. What he hasn’t quite told her was how relieved he was when she said she wanted to keep the baby. He figures him being overjoyed for the last few days is enough of an indication there.

 _We made a baby_ , he thinks, and he laughs a little.

“I know, right? Who would have thought,” Dick continues, rocking up onto the balls of his feet. His gaze wanders away from the headstones, settling more in the middle distance. “Gotta admit, I thought about it once or twice before, but that felt like more of a daydream than any planned reality. This is… Babs told me earlier this week, and we just found out this morning, but this is real, and it’s happening. In eight months I—” he pauses, wavering, “—I get to meet my kid.”

As his eyes wander again, so does his mind. He tries to imagine what the baby will look like—boy or girl, it doesn’t matter; they’re the size of a blueberry right now and he loves them more than anything. He wonders whose nose they’ll get, if they’ll have even a fraction of the freckles spilling across Barbara's face and shoulders like tiny constellations. He imagines reaching for a tiny hand wrapping around his index finger and his fists clench in his pockets.

“I’m terrified,” he says into the open spring air. The light breeze blowing his fringe across his forehead carries the scent of freshly mowed grass. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m beyond excited and I can’t wait to see them, or figure out which bedtime story to read, or argue with them over whether or not they’re supposed to wear pants in public. And I can’t wait to just…” He pulls his hands from his pockets and pantomimes holding an infant. “Hold them. My daughter, or my son. But I’m terrified too, because what if I screw this up? What if I’m not…”

Dick trails off, letting that linger in the air to go unanswered. There’s that lump in his throat that likes to make an appearance whenever he has a question for his mom, and he drops his hands.

“I wish you guys were here,” he murmurs. It isn’t the first time he’s said it, and he knows there will never be a last, either. “You’re supposed to be here for stuff like this, and it’s… Maybe it’s selfish of me, but it’d be easier.”

He sighs, and after a few moments of quiet moves to stoop down and rest a hand against the cool, smooth surface of stone.

“Take care of each other will you? Mom, keep dad out of trouble?” Dick huffs a laugh and tugs at his pant legs from where they’ve ridden up as he moves to straighten again. “I’ll see you guys again soon. Maybe I’ll bring your grandkid.”

As he walks back toward the entryway he feels lighter, just a little. It’s a cathartic sort of thing, like there’s been a weight sitting on his shoulders that’s lessened somewhat. Some visits are easier than others, and Dick tries not to reflect on some of the more sour ones as he makes for the main path.

In retrospect, taking his bike here would have been a better idea, and he only regrets not doing so just a little as he debates just how fair he’ll willing to walk in order to get home, depending on whether the buses or the L is running on schedule. His knee aches in a way that makes him regret forgoing his brace, something he knows both Barbara _and_ Leslie will chide him for.

It’s not too far a walk, as it turns out, when the gate comes into view only to greet him with the presence of Jim Gordon. His pace slows a tad as he approaches, long enough to give him a quick study, but not too long to be overly noticeable, though his brow furrows a little. It’s more than a little disconcerting to find him at the cemetery at the same time he is, especially since he’s supposed to be with Barbara. Concern flickers through his chest for a moment.

“Afternoon, Commissioner,” Dick says once he’s within earshot and pulls a hand from his pocket because instinct tells him to offer to shake his hand. Jim adjusts his collar and nods to him as he gets closer. “What brings you here?” he asks, then quickly adds: “Where’s Babs, is everything okay?”

“Barbara’s fine,” Jim says as he falls into step beside him. “She said there’s a good chance I’d find you here.”

Dick can feel his expression waver, but he quickly masks it by clearly his throat. Jim, at least, has his gaze averted as he pats down the pockets of his coat. While he has no issues with Barbara’s dad, he can’t say he was necessarily keen on the notion of running into him not even five minutes after visiting his parents. Typically he likes a little time to himself after, hence the roundabout way he’d gotten to Gotham Memorial Cemetery to begin with. With a glance over his shoulder he can spot Jim’s car, but it’s facing away from them, and something tells him he’s been out here waiting for a bit.

His gaze flickers back to him, but he lets a small smile slip out when he sees Jim pull a packet of gum from his pocket.

“Spearmint, huh?” he offers to ease whatever light tension there is. Jim shrugs as he grabs a stick and Dick shakes his head at the offer.

“Sarah and Barb have been on me to quit for years,” he mutters, flicking the packet in a manner that reads like muscle memory from putting out a match. This new habit smells better, at least, Dick thinks. “Figure this is the next best thing.” 

Dick nods, but his smile ticks down into the beginning of a frown. “Not that isn’t nice to see you and all, sir, but… what are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you and all,” he parrots around a snicker, but then his eyes take on a more serious look as they meet his. “Barbara told me you might be out here, and it was on my way back to the house. I came to check on you, make sure you’re doing all right.”

“Oh,” is all Dick manages for a second. The gesture is appreciated, but not quite expected. But then, Jim is the same man who found Bruce in that alley and the same who later put his jacket around Dick’s shoulders and then sat with him for a while after his parents fell. Jim reaching out in his own gruff way isn’t surprising. His shoulders loosen a little. “I take it she told you the news then? The prospect of a kid terrifies me, but I’m excited at the same time. I think we’re ready, though, somehow.”

His voice falters a little on the last sentence though, as Jim raises an eyebrow. His stomach drops.

“She… did tell you, didn’t she?”

Jim buries his hands in his pockets. “Not in so many words, but you just confirmed it for me.”

Barbara’s gonna kill him. Thus far Leslie and Steph know, and one because she ran tests for them and the other by complete accident because she happened to be there. Her _dad_ finding out because of a slip of the tongue is probably not going to go over all that great.

“How did you…?” Dick’s brow furrows.

“I met my daughter for coffee and she, who’s been attached at the hip to it since she could drink it, didn’t order any,” Jim says, wading up the wrapper to his stick of gum. “We’ve also been going to the same spot and ordering the same two things for the past twenty years, so her actually reading the menu was a little questionable.” He pauses, and Dick watches his finger twitch toward his mouth like he means to pluck a phantom cigarette from it. He’s grinning though, and tilts his head to glance at him over his glasses. “You know I’m a detective, right? I didn’t become Commissioner by winning the lottery.” 

There's a note of bitterness in his tone and then a beat, during which Dick nods and shifts on his feet.

“She also pulled out her planner to pencil in our next lunch, and the ultrasound she had scribbled down for next Thursday was a bit of a giveaway. Unless there’s something else going on with my daughter that you’re not telling me.”

“No sir,” Dick says, gaze dropping for a second. For as long as he’s known Jim, and as long as he’s been (on and off) with Barbara, there’s still going to be part of him that can tell if he fears Jim or wants to bend over backwards to impress him. Jim’s not exactly making him grovel though. Still, girlfriend’s dad and all that.

“I’m messin’ with ya, Grayson. She told me. Said she wanted to wait for you to tell me together, but the planner thing was a bit of a giveaway, and she didn’t like me calling her on looking nervous.”

Dick huffs a laugh along with him, but it sounds more like a forced exhale on his end. He clears his throat, because something tells him he shouldn’t leave their conversation at yes, he got his daughter pregnant. “I want you to know that this is serious though—I care about Barbara, and our child. She means more to me than she knows, and I will spend the rest of my life proving that to her if I have to.”

Now Jim just looks amused, and around a snicker he says: “Easy kid, I don’t need any convincing. You two already have my blessing if you’re looking to tie the knot.”

Dick blanches. It isn’t like he hasn’t thought about it before, and he has a ring, but they’re not quite there yet, he doesn’t think. They’ve always gone about proverbial milestones their own way, and besides, if he gets down on one knee _now_ it might not look too great.

“She asked me to move in with her,” Dick says and gets leveled with a look for it.

“And that’s about as much of an update as I need right now,” he says curtly. 

Dick has to smile a little at that, though he ducks into his collar at the breeze curling around the back of his neck. Jim goes quiet for a moment, but there’s a misty sheen to his eyes that gives him away, and Dick takes a step forward. He may not have gotten to properly share the news with his own parents, but to do so with Barbara’s is the next best thing. (They’ll have to call Sarah when he gets home and put her on speaker, and Jim can act surprised along with her.) His chest swells a little bit with the warmth of it all, and overall the idea of having a baby is something he wants to climb up onto a rooftop and scream out to the world.

He can’t wait to tell the rest of their families and friends. Maybe just with her, and maybe once she’s a little further along.

“You said you're terrified?” Jim says, interrupting his reverie. He falters for a moment and then nods, which gets him Jim planting a hand on his shoulder. “Good, that means you’re ready.”

“Sir?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You said you’re excited but terrified. That’s good,” Jim continues, giving his shoulder a squeeze, “because that tells me you’re looking forward to this but also realistic about it. Raising a kid isn’t something to take lightly—trust me.”

The laugh Dick lets out is, again, more of an exhale, and Jim’s hand drops from his shoulder as he takes a step back to give him some space. The quiet, broken only by leaves skittering across the pavement and the creaking branches above them in the breeze, is amicable, and he watches Jim shift like he’s searching for something to say. Though he’d been considering telling him to have a nice day before he made the trek home, knee be damned, he waits, picking at the lining of his coat pocket. Jim begins to turn, pivoting toward his car.

“You know…” Jim starts, glancing to Dick from his peripherals with a conspiratorial look in his eye. “James is a pretty strong name.”

Dick grins. “We’ll have to keep that one in mind.”

“C’mon, I’ll give ya a ride home. Promise to act surprised when you two tell me the news together.”

He mulls it over, considering, to find Jim (his kid’s future grandfather, what a thought) already at his tail light, and he weighs his options of whether or not he really wants to deal with crosstown traffic on his own and on foot.

“Sure thing; give me just one second?” he asks as he pulls his phone out his back pocket, and Jim pauses long enough to nod before rounding his car to the driver’s side. Dick watches him go, taking a breath and waiting for Barbara to pick up.

“Hey Babs? There’s something you should probably know…”

\-- --

Barbara’s still laughing at him when he gets home, which is much better than any alternative he could think of. Her eyes are alight, fingers covering her mouth as she more or less _giggles_ , and that’s not something he’s going to let her forget. His usual instinct when he gets home is to bend down and give her a quick kiss, but with her dad hovering beside him he can’t help but feel like maybe that isn’t in his best interest. Jim isn’t outright glaring at him (for now), but he’s not about to test his luck.

“Are you kidding me?” she asks around her fingertips as she lowers her hands. Dick has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “You told him?”

For the last forty-five minutes he’s had her laugh rattling around his skull, and that’s something he’s sure _she_ isn’t going to let him forget, either. Her dad, to his credit, looks amused by the two of them at least, rather than scrutinizing them in the way he used to when they were younger and he came across them alone together.

Dick still gravitates toward her regardless, and his fingers skim her shoulder as he flicks an errant curl off it.

“You told him first,” he shoots back while Jim folds his arms and leans against the counter.

Barbara snorts.

“Okay yeah, maybe—”

“—no, not _yeah, maybe_ ,” Dick cuts in, “since there’s no _maybe_ you told him.”

“It wasn’t like I planned on it!” She swats at his hand just in time for him to duck out of reach. “It came out by accident and I wasn’t about to lie to my _dad_ about having a _baby_.”

“Our baby,” he supplies. “You can’t lie about _our_ baby.”

“You do both realize I’m still here, don’t you?” Jim pipes up from the island, voice gruff and enough to have Dick whirling on his heel again. The tips of Barbara’s ears, obscured by her hair, turn pink. One of his eyebrows is raised, but beneath his mustache there are thin traces of a grin. As he pushes away from the counter again Dick shifts his weight to the other foot and a soft, an amused sound manages to slip its way out of the back of his throat.

 _Our baby_ still reverberates around in his ears, and he’s sure the same can be said for Barbara. Maybe for Jim, too, because Dick isn’t sure if the idea of being a grandfather has totally set in just yet. Hell, he just got used to the idea of being a _dad_ himself only a few hours ago.

One of Barbara’s hands reaches for his own as her dad approaches them and she leans toward him. Anything Dick can think to say to him he said outside the cemetery, but he supposes it bears repeating. He can’t be certain exactly what was said between him and Barbara, but she’ll likely tell him as soon as he leaves.

“I meant what I said before, sir,” he says in lieu of anything else, which grants him a curious look from Barbara and a nod from Jim.

“Good to hear it, son,” he says in kind, in that voice of his that tends to make Dick’s chest swell with pride, if only just a little. It, paired with the clap on the shoulder earlier, is the Jim Gordon seal of approval. Beside him, Barbara smiles softly, and her eyes are glassy.

He notes Jim’s hesitation, and he takes a breath before he’s reaching up with his free hand, winding an arm around his shoulders and dragging him down with him to Barbara’s height. He gets a laugh for it to coincide with some good-natured grumbling. The hug, awkward as the angle is, goes on for a moment longer before he’s carefully slipping out of their grip.

“I’m proud of you two,” Jim’s saying as he pulls away with a misty sheen to his eyes; Dick’s fingers come to rest at the gentle dip between Barbara’s shoulder blades. His mustache twitches. “You two are gonna be all right, you know that? If there’s anyone who can handle a kid, it’s you.”

“Well…” Dick starts, but then he thinks of Tim to a certain extent, to Damian, to Lian. Barbara has had experience with Steph, Cass, and Charlie, to differing degrees. That feels more like preparation for rebellious teen years as opposed to dealing with an infant who is solely their responsibility (and cannot simply be sent back to a manor or their parents at the end of the day), however.

“No, listen,” Jim says, holding up a hand. He can hear Barbara clear her throat and bite back her own interjection. “I mean it; worry and concern is good. That’s part of the whole package. But you two both have good heads on your shoulders. Am I worried? As a parent—and now a grandparent, thanks—of course I am, but I trust you two.” Dick’s thumb rubs back and forth against her back as Jim’s gaze bounces between them. “I’m happy for you kids, I really am, but you,” he points at Barbara, “need to make sure you call and tell your stepmother, too.”

Barbara glances his way and then back to Dick as she laughs, but it’s Dick’s turn to look sheepish as she’s the one who answers for them both. “If it helps, we haven’t told most of his family yet, either.”

“Barbara said _oh shit_ when she found out.”

She shoots him a glare. “Oh yeah, like you didn’t say the same thing? Glad my dad knows this now. Real slick, Grayson.”

Rather than address that, Jim adopts a different expression, and from the slight groan from both himself and Barbara, Dick knows this is something _else_ they’ll probably never get to live down, either.

“Bruce doesn’t know?”


	5. Chapter 5.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara has an important call to make; Dick's birthday celebration is pretty quiet, and Barbara's so excited to tell his family the news that it almost makes her sick. (Literally.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hello again. the last section here got workshopped a couple times until i was finally remotely happy with it, lmao. as a whole this entire chapter is about double the length of the others, so hopefully that makes up for the near month delay in updating. thinking about it now, this could have been like. chapter 3 or something, and sorry if the first two bits seemed rushed. now that we've gotten this out of the way things are really going to be happening here, and we might breeze through a few things as well!
> 
> thank you all for reading!

“You know what? I feel like I’m always doing laundry and I hate it,” Dinah says as Barbara glances up and flips to another screen. Thus far it’s been a slow morning of software updates and sifting through chatter to pluck the occasional buzzword from, but nothing too significant.

She’s already had her first bout of what she refers to as “official” morning sickness, which, while not unexpected, she can’t say she was exactly looking forward to. If anything, Barbara had been holding out hope it would be a few weeks still before her stomach started acting up and she’s already counting down the days until it’s over.

Come to think of it, she decides, maybe her first sign something was up was about two weeks ago when she made herself some peppermint tea to settle her stomach and nearly retched at the scent. She’d never consider herself overly sensitive to smell—she does deal with Dick post-patrol, after all, and he typically doesn’t smell all that great when he gets back. (She’s probably going to have to make him change on the roof before he comes inside after patrol now.)

A pen cap dangles from the corner of her mouth and bobs when she speaks. “You? Cleaning and hating something? Unheard of.”

She can only imagine the loads of laundry to be done after the baby’s born, and she feels like she does it enough as is. Dinah’s not wrong, of course, because laundry’s a Sisyphean task, a fruitless endeavor to undertake because it’s never going to be finished, anyway. Not that she’s going to pass up an opportunity to rib Dinah, regardless.

“Do you know how easy it is to disconnect a call? I’m going through a tunnel,” Dinah says, emulating static from the back of her throat, “you’re breaking up.”

After giving her a flat look and spitting out her cap, Barbara receives a grin in response.

“It’s important to me that you know I didn’t call you solely to listen to you whine about laundry and household chores,” she says, tapping her nails against her tea mug (decaffeinated and kind of dull in comparison to what she’s used to) as her mouth curls into a slow grin in mirth. On the screen across from her, Dinah rolls her eyes. A glorified FaceTime is one of the rare instances she can get Dinah to work with technology, or find they agree with one another.

“What, you didn’t call me to make fun of me?” she asks around a gasp. “ _That’ll_ be the day.”

“Dinah—”

“No, really. I mean—”

“ _Dinah_.”

“Ugh, _what?_ ”

“I’m pregnant.”

Dinah stares at her, frozen long enough that for a second Barbara’s afraid they’ve lost their connection, though that’s only happened maybe _once_ in the entire time they’ve been friends, let alone operating together. She squints a little bit and Barbara withholds the urge to squirm when she feels like she’s being studied. Dinah purses her lips.

“You’re shitting me,” she says, and Barbara lowers her mug as she raises her eyebrows. She pushes her glasses up to the top of her forehead where they come to rest at her crown.

“Gotta say, of all the responses I was expecting, that wasn’t one of them.”

Dinah’s expression only shifts minutely, but even through the screen she can see something flicker through her eyes. It’s almost reminiscent of when she told Dick, watching him carefully toe the line of wanting to be excited but unsure of where she stood. On the one hand, Barbara appreciates the sentiment, but on the other part of her would rather be met with excitement.

It takes maybe all of two seconds before she is when Dinah just about shrieks.

“Oh my god! Does Dick know?”

Barbara sputters a laugh, palms curling around the lip of her desk. Dinah’s eyes are about as wide as the smile it looks like she’s trying (and failing) to fight.

“Of course Dick knows!” she comes back with, though indignation bleeds into her tone. “He’s the father; he deserves to know and he’s the first person I told—”

“You told him before you told me?”

“Dinah! It seemed a little important for him to know!”

On the other side of the screen, Dinah makes an annoyed sound in the back of her throat. Her expression is one of amusement, at least, and Barbara can’t fight her own smile that’s slowly growing. There’s something thrilling about saying it, because verbalizing it makes it real. In seven months she gets to hold her child, one she hadn’t planned on nor thought was in the cards. Across from her, Dinah beams. Her eyes are soft and perhaps just a touch glassy in the way that isn’t due to the reflection of her own screen. In her peripherals, another holographic screen flickers.

“Okay, seriously,” Dinah says, catching her attention again, “this is really exciting and I’m really happy for you. Do you know how far along or picked out any names yet? Does anyone else know? Were you guys actively trying, or is this like… surprise! Guess what? Wait, was this his birthday gift? Damn, you’re never going to be able to top this.”

 _Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition_ , Barbara muses. Dinah rests her chin on her fist and grins at her.

Barbara sighs and leans back in her chair. “Okay, first off, I wasn’t looking to get grilled today, thanks—” Dinah shrugs. “—but if you absolutely _must_ know, and I’m sure you do, I’m almost two months. I found out for sure when I went to see Leslie, so she knows. Stephanie knows because she found out by accident since she was also in the office, and my dad knows because he knew something was up, and also, he’s my dad.” She pauses, considering. “Does that answer all of your questions?”

“Oh of course not.” At her raised eyebrow she gets: “I’m just wondering when you’re going to tell Dick that the baby is actually mine.”

Barbara almost snorts, digging her teeth into her lower lip. “After the baby’s born, I think. Maybe I’ll let him hold them for a minute before we ride off into the sunset.”

“Ha! Wonderful; I can’t wait to see the look on his face.” She laughs at her own joke, and Barbara can’t help but join in for a moment. It slowly fades back into general happiness instead of bemusement, and Dinah moves to prop her chin up with both hands. She hums and seems to sway a bit. “Still, this is really exciting news. This is the greatest thing you’ve told me in years; have you guys said anything to his family yet?”

“We’re doing dinner at the manor on Saturday, because nothing says happy birthday like celebrating it a few days late and then running around fighting crime until four in the morning.”

“Any cravings yet?” Dinah asks, knuckles digging into her cheeks and messing with the shape of her mouth. “Stereotypical things like pickles and ice cream or wanting to shove your fist into a jar of peanut butter?”

“Sounds like _your_ usual wild Saturday night,” she muses; out of frame her hand drops to her stomach. There’s nothing to show just yet, though that doesn’t stop her or Dick from touching it on a near-constant basis. “You mean aside from wanting a full night’s sleep? Can’t say so.”

“Man, you’re gonna have the most boring pregnancy ever—or at least I hope so.”

Barbara gives her a look, tilting her head as her glasses slip back down her forehead and onto her nose. She reaches up to adjust them with her free hand and catches the faint sound of the front door to the living quarters unlocking. It coincides with the security camera in the far right corner of the screen as Dinah raises an eyebrow.

“Please don’t jinx it.”

\-- --

His birthday two days later is a pretty quiet ordeal—mostly because he spends most of the day in class, and then he picks up another session at the rec. center. Luckily he’d gotten out of patrol the night before, but by the time he gets back home from his day he’s exhausted. They manage dinner and he can’t keep his hands off of her stomach, and the amount of touching segues into a rather heated make-out session on the couch.

“Hang on,” she says while he pulls a face as she pulls away. The skin between his brow puckers and exhaustion lines his face, so he doesn’t protest much beyond that as she slides from the couch and back to her chair. He sinks back into the cushion a little and looks about ready to be absorbed by it by the time she returns from the bedroom with a neatly wrapped box perched on her lap.

Dick sits up again, but whether the groan is from him or the couch, she can’t quite tell. He grins, weariness giving way to excitement as she hands the box over.

“This better not be a used, positive pregnancy test,” he says after shaking it, and she only rolls her eyes and mutters _don’t be gross_. Instead, wrapped up in tissue paper, he finds a new key ring adorned with his set, one for Barbara’s (now their) place, and a car key he doesn’t recognize. When he looks up and raises an eyebrow at her, she just smiles and tells him happy birthday. It takes him a split second, and he laughs and says he feels like one of those people in those dumb holiday commercials, the ones who wake up Christmas morning to find their spouse pulled from their joint savings and now there’s a new car in the driveway. Barbara does too, and says she may have had some help—courtesy of her pals Cobblepot, Dent, and maybe a few other ‘friends’ of Oracle’s.

Dick says he’ll have to send a few thank you notes to Arkham, and she says maybe right after they do some shopping around for car seats.

The rest of the evening slips by slowly, quietly, counting down the hours until Nightwing is due to relieve Batgirl around three. Dick rests his head on her chest and wraps an arm around her stomach after a dessert of homemade cannolis where she cards her fingers through his hair. As far as birthdays go it isn’t much, but he tightens his grip and says it’s one of the best, actually. He’s out before The Late Show’s opening monologue.

\-- --

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want,” Dick offers from the driver’s seat, casting her glances as he navigates his way through crosstown traffic. They’re already ten minutes into the forty-five minute drive, and just the _thought_ of circling back now at the tail end of Friday night rush hour is beyond unappealing.

“No, we should go,” she says around a grimace as she adjusts the air fresher slapped onto one of the vents. The new car smell is almost nauseating enough on its own; adding freshly scented hibiscus only has her stomach turning more. Dick glances at her again and cracks her window. “Besides, we haven’t seen them in a while and I’m looking forward to Alfred’s cooking.”

“Do you not like my cooking?” Dick asks as he merges onto the expressway, and, looking out the window at the time, misses Barbara sticking her tongue out at him.

“Your cooking is just fine, Casanova; I’m just looking forward to Alfred pulling out all the stops when it comes to making you a birthday dinner.”

“Ah, I knew there was an ulterior motive,” he says, reaching over to take her hand from where it rests in her lap. She tears her gaze away from watching the cityscape gradually give way to a tree-line and break in the horizon of metal and smog. “You sure you’re feeling up for it?”

Barbara nods, moving to rest her head against the window as her stomach twists. “I’m fine, promise. Just didn’t sleep too well and our kid is making sure I regret it.” There’s a soft smile at the mention, and she’s sure there’s going to be for the next twenty years, too. Her thumb brushes against his knuckles. “This baby is going to be so spoiled, you know that?”

“Are you kidding me? Between Bruce, your dad, and Alfred alone, we’ll be lucky if we ever get to see them.” Dick shakes his head, settling back in his seat. It’s quiet for a few minutes, and Barbara lets her eyes slip closed; she can feel him looking at her. “Are you sleeping?”

“No,” she murmurs, and she can practically hear him frowning beside her as his thumb skirts over the back of her knuckles. She’s felt off for the better part of the past week—the first couple she attributed to stress, not morning sickness. It’s a point of pride of hers she’s only lost her lunch a few times in the last two months, too, and the first time she figured it was just a case of food poisoning thanks to takeout from a place she now refuses to order from. “Can’t. There’s just this buzzing noise in my ears.”

“Are you—” Dick starts, and she opens her eyes, glancing his way to find his lips pressed together. “Can’t believe the mother of my child is bullying me.”

“I’m going to carry said child for nine months. I think I’m allowed to bully you at least a little.”

“ _A little_ ,” he mutters. He glances up toward the rear view mirror, and for a split second she imagines him checking over a small child. In her mind’s eye they have his dark hair and her eyes (genetics be damned), and they light up as they wave to him while they clutched to a stuffed rabbit. It’s a girl and she doesn’t know her name yet. She turns her attention back as he merges from the highway onto the route heading toward the Manor.

By the time they finally pull onto the grounds Barbara is itching to get out of the car, and from the way Dick drums his fingers and fidgets she can tell he is, too. A face peeks out one of the windows as gravel crunches beneath the tires, but they disappear fast enough she can’t tell if it was either Tim or Damian.

“Jason better be here,” Dick grumbles as he shifts the car into park, and Barbara hums by way of question as she undoes her seatbelt. “Yeah, not only does he owe me a gift, but I’d rather we tell everyone in one fell swoop. I’m not in the mood to play phone tag with people.”

“And have them argue over who got told first?” she asks while he rounds the car and she reaches into the back for her chair. Earlier in the day he’d texted her with a number of removable car hand controls he’d found, telling her he didn’t want to hoard all the future carpooling duties to himself. She’d chuckled and said that was sweet, but bold of him to assume he thought driving their kid around was going to get him out of diaper duty.

Alfred is there to greet them, as he is wont to do, and Barbara suddenly finds herself nervous even as Dick wraps him in a hug.

“Miss Barbara, Master Richard. A pleasure to see you again, and I’m glad you could join us,” he says after Barbara gets in a hug of her own and steps aside to let them both in.

“Someday I’ll get him to call me Dick,” Dick muses in the middle of removing his jacket. He reaches for Barbara’s.

Alfred takes them both, but not before muttering: “Not on your life, birthday or not.” After he turns his back to the two, Barbara looks up at Dick and crosses her eyes at him. “Master Jason was not in the mood to join us,” Alfred tells them. Dick curses lowly.

Barbara can’t help but be a little miffed herself; like Dick, she was hoping they could share the exciting news with everyone all at once rather than keep a laundry list of who still doesn’t know. Still, they trail after Alfred and follow him into what he’s always referred to as the ‘sitting room,’ which they’ve always said was just the fancy living room.

Bruce and Damian are embroiled in a chess match while Tim plays on his phone on the couch where Cass uses him as a footrest. She’s the first to get up to meet them, and she smiles and lets Barbara pull her down into a hug. At most, Damian maybe passes them both a glance and curt nod by way of greeting, and Dick waves before getting an annoyed grunt from Tim when he flicks his ear.

“Dinner will be ready shortly,” Alfred tells them before disappearing into the kitchen, and as the door swings behind him she notes something smells as it wafts down the hall.

Dick gives her a look to which she shakes her head just so; Tim smacks his hands away from his head with a _quit it, Dick_.

“Watch your rook, Damian,” Barbara calls across the room, which garners a curious look from the boy in question, and then a frown from his father as he smirks and then swiftly takes out one of his knights.

“I suppose we should table this for now,” Bruce grumbles. Damian looks put out for all of a split second he’s all but scurrying up to Dick’s side and getting his hair tousled with an exaggerated grumble. It’s more than endearing, and it tugs at her heart because she can visualize the little girl from the car ride.

“Don’t be a sore loser,” Barbara says as he comes to stand beside her, though he looks mildly amused when she glances up at him.

“I assure you I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He watches the boys interact, Cass orbiting around them like she isn’t waiting for the perfect moment to strike. She keeps casting sly looks her way, so Barbara knows for a fact she’s picked up on their nervousness, but Dick manages to mask his more by turning the attention back onto either of his brothers. The extent of his exchange with Bruce thus far has been a nod and some eye contact.

She opens her mouth to speak and at least try to make some conversation when the door to the kitchen swings back open to announce Alfred’s approach, and then there’s that smell again. Lips pressed into a thin line, Barbara follows him and the others into the dining room as he tells them dinner’s ready. Dick meets her eyes, backs of his fingers ghosting along her shoulder, and there’s a nervous, fluttering sensation in her stomach.

Telling Dick she was pregnant was one thing, and letting it slip to her father was another. Telling his siblings and adoptive father is another beast entirely. She’s more than excited at the prospect of having a child, and it’s that she focuses on as she shifts from her chair to the dining table.

Her polite decline of wine doesn’t raise many eyebrows, but it’s Damian declaring that he will take her glass instead that does as he’s quickly met with two quick _no_ ’s in unison from Bruce and Dick. They glance at one another while Tim all but snorts into his glass.

“You okay?” Dick leans over to whisper as the others finish getting settled and Alfred waves off any offerings of assistance, just as he always does.

Barbara tries to smooth the lines out of her brow and covers her frown by raising her water glass to her lips. “You don’t smell that?”

“Smell what?” he murmurs; Bruce tells his siblings to quit playing musical chairs, so Cass settles herself between Tim and Damian.

She takes a breath in through her mouth and then lets it out, fogging up her glass. Dick is still watching her even as he sits back, but his attention is only somewhat diverted as Bruce asks how he spent his birthday. Barbara tries to focus on her breathing and him talking about how he’s moved in with her and how he’s considered pursuing paramedic training aside from just EMT, knowing Cass is watching her all the while. Cursing internally, she notes the conversation comes to an abrupt halt when Alfred enters again with a tray, and as he comes closer, the scent that’s been haunting her grows stronger.

“As a celebration, it felt only fitting to start with one of Master Richard’s favorites,” Alfred says as she tries to hide her grimace when Dick smiles at the presentation of crab stuffed mushrooms.

“Thanks, Alfred,” he says as they’re doled out, and any other day she’d be more than a little excited about the prospect. Now, as she stares down the dish glowering up at her, her gut churns with the blueberry baby who’s graduated to the size of a kidney bean giving her no mercy, and she’s anything but. As she glances up to find the others cutting into theirs with some rather reserved gusto, she can’t help but feel a pant of guilt. Even Damian’s vegetarian rendition doesn’t smell more appealing.

“This looks fantastic,” Bruce offers from the head of the table, and Tim offers a thumbs up.

“It should be Dick’s birthday more often,” he murmurs, and Alfred looks rather pleased with himself, though he’ll be the last to admit it. The problem is, they’re right. The mushrooms likely taste as good as they look, but she can’t get past the smell. 

Dick digs in with zeal, and beneath the table Barbara smooths her palms down her thighs and swallows.

“Alfred, please sit down. You’re making me dizzy,” she says around a laugh, while he tuts and Cass’ eyes dart to her. She swallows again and picks up her fork, deciding that if she can at least stomach a bite, that’s one battle conquered this evening. She clears her throat and closes her eyes for a moment.

“When are you free next, Richard?” Damian asks from across the table, and when she opens her eyes again Bruce’s giving her a curious look. Alfred refills her water glass.

“That depends,” Dick says, grinning in her peripherals. Earlier she would have found the exchange endearing. (For a split second she thinks Dick already has a child, and he’s smiling at him and probably thinking of Cheese Viking. She hasn’t quite considered how he would take the news.) “Do you think the arcade is ready for our return?”

“Hardly.”

The conversation lulls for a moment, broken only by the clink of silverware against china. Barbara lasts maybe another ten seconds before:

“I’m sorry, I can’t. Alfred, I’m sure this is absolutely delicious, but I can’t do this,” she says, face and ears burning as she turns to Dick and gestures to her plate. “Do you want this? I can’t eat it.”

“Is everything alright?” Bruce asks before Dick can, but he misses the split second of realization that crosses Dick’s face. He takes it from her with little fanfare, but she can feel worried eyes on her, especially from Alfred.

Barbara only nods and takes another sip from her water glass. She meets Dick’s eyes and manages a half-hearted shrug as he sighs. The ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and he leans back in his chair to address them all, setting down his silverware. Her stomach twists for another reason entirely, and she’s pretty sure her hand is clammy as she raises it to take his from where it rests against the table. 

“Now’s about as good a time as any,” Dick offers. The plan had been to tell them all after dinner, maybe after dessert. Now Barbara’s free hand holds her glass up to her lips and tries not to breathe through her nose.

Despite her nerves and the scent that still lingers, she can’t help but smile herself.

She swallows and nods, setting her glass back down. Dick all but beams, which she knows only has to raise more questions for the others.

“Can we get rid of the crab and mushrooms first please?” she asks, and offers Alfred an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” She braces herself. “It’s the smell; I can’t do it and it’s making me sick to my stomach.”

“I assure you everything is fresh,” he’s saying even as he begins collecting dishes to take away. Most are hardly touched, and she feels more than a little bad, though the guilt doesn’t quite override her nausea. “Would you care for some ginger ale?”

“No, thank you,” she murmurs and Dick lets go of her hand to run his down her back, rubbing the space between her shoulder blades. She feels marginally better as the mushrooms are taken back to the kitchen, though the scent still lingers, just not as strong.

“Are you okay, Barbara?” Tim asks from where he sits across from her. The nod she offers doesn’t seem to be answer enough for him though. Damian’s gaze flickers between the two of them, and she can feel both Cass and Bruce eying them as Alfred returns, and she takes a breath. Dick rubs a hand down her back again.

“We’re expecting,” he says with little fanfare, giving her time to collect herself. The footsteps pause, and she glances up to find Alfred halfway between the table and door to the kitchen, an eyebrow raised like he didn’t hear him the first time.

“I’m pregnant,” she says, turning her attention to the rest of the people at the table. Cass’ expression shifts from curiosity to one she can’t read for a moment, but then breaks into a smile. Where Damian looks perplexed (he quickly schools it again), Tim’s mouth is wide like he isn’t sure if he should laugh or not, and his eyebrows are crawling toward his hairline. Bruce is indecipherable, like he’s trying to process the mere notion of the nine year-old he took in almost two decades ago is going to be a father.

“Why that’s most exciting news, Miss Barbara,” Alfred says, and as he moves closer to the table Barbara reaches up to take his hand. He clears his throat, eyes glassy before they shift to Dick. “That explains the aversion—perhaps you could have given me some forewarning?”

“Hey,” Dick all but drawls while Tim snickers.

“He’s just mad you didn’t tell him first,” he says, getting up from his chair. “But that’s awesome. Congrats.”

“Wonderful,” Cass chimes in as she rounds the table, and Dick removes his hand from Barbara’s back so she can hook her chin over Cass’ shoulder for another hug. This one is tighter, and as she pulls away glances down to her stomach and then back. “How long?”

“Not long.” She squeezes Cass’ biceps just above her elbows.

Damian hasn’t so much as moved, though he offers his own congratulations, stilted as it may be. Something flickers through Dick’s eyes, and she knows there’s a conversation to be had there. Though he’d never fully put it into words, she knows he had and still does view Damian as a proverbial son, and that the feeling, still unspoken, was mutual.

Her fingers trail along the back of his hand in a small sign of comfort after Cass steps away. 

“I think you broke Bruce,” Tim cuts in, his grin all teeth and she laughs a little.

“You didn’t,” he murmurs from the head of the table, and beside her Dick shifts a little in his chair. Nerves gather in her chest again as she watches his jaw work.

Bruce opens his mouth and shuts it.

A number of different scenarios play out in her head, each response varying only minutely from the last, but then Bruce gives them a small smile.

“I thought I gave you The Talk,” he says, which is a far cry from whatever rendition of _congratulations_ or hum she thought they were getting at the rate he was going.

“Clearly it didn’t work,” Tim mutters; Cass snorts and Barbara has to cover her mouth with her hand.

“Thank you for that groundbreaking insight.” Dick’s voice is dry but his eyes betray him, and so does the laugh he tries and utterly fails to hide. “Is this your way of dealing with being a grandfather? Masking the trauma with humor?”

Bruce’s face falls.

“You made him feel old,” Cass says beside her, and even Damian chuckles a little at that. He looks more than a little put out when Tim stage-whispers that he can see his grays from the other end of the table.

With a sigh, Alfred folds his hands and deadpans: “Oh dear me.”

The rest of dinner passes by as smoothly as it can—sans crab and mushrooms, which Dick says he’ll just go hide out in the kitchen and eat, and Alfred raises a toast to the future Gordon-Grayson child. Damian is still quiet for the most part, but his silence seems more self-reflective, and he quietly asks if Dick will still be out at night. It’s a decent enough question and one she knows he still has to sit down and really parse through, though she feels it goes deeper than that. By way of olive branch Dick just smiles and says it depends on if Robin is going to be out, too. 

After dessert and Alfred’s quickly shot down any offers to help clear the table (again) Bruce claps Dick on the back and tells him he’s proud of him, of both of them. Dick’s smile is soft, polite, and Barbara takes his hand once more. Damian is the first to excuse himself, and watching his eyes trail his retreating figure, squeezes Dick’s hand before he makes to follow him.

“Barbara,” Bruce calls as the rest of them are making their way back to the living room, and she watches Tim bat Cass’ hand away as she flicks him before turning back to face him. He pauses, seemingly searching for words and she waits. “This is incredibly exciting, and I’m happy for and proud of the both of you.”

“Thank you,” she says and means it. They linger for a moment still, and then Bruce continues.

“You know I never raised an infant myself—Dick was nine when I took him in, and Damian was not much older himself. I can’t imagine how daunting it is,” he says before pausing and then clearing his throat. “While I can’t imagine it, I want you both to know that you have my full support as well. Whenever or whatever you need, I hope you’re both more than well aware you aren’t alone.”

“Far from it, actually,” Barbara says, shaking her head slightly. What could have been a laugh from Bruce is more an exhale. 

“Of course. Even so, I… I also want you to know I’m proud of you. Who you’ve become…” As he trails off she waits to see if he’ll pick up again. When he does, she reaches up to rest her hand on his forearm. The slight sheen to his eyes isn’t just a trick of the now dim lights of the dining room, no matter what he might say. It’s almost an unnerving look on him. “I’m proud of you, and frankly could not imagine two people better suited to raise a child. You’re going to be great parents.”

His other hand reaches over to cover hers, patting the back of it. Barbara blinks a few times and nods, deciding she’s going to blame it on hormones. Bruce Wayne has never been the most emotionally available person she’s ever met, but then she supposes saying that is like the pot calling the kettle black.

“Thank you, Bruce,” she says as she drops her hand and his stance shifts. Behind him there’s the sound of Dick and Damian returning, made up of footsteps and lighthearted chatter.

When she glances past Bruce, it’s to the sight of Dick with his hand resting against the back of his neck and tugging him into his side. Damian’s smile is small but it’s still there. His shoulders are loose and he sways as he’s jostled. 

Dick’s eyes are bright and open when they meet hers, and for a split second she feels like a young girl seeing her first crush as the way her heart pounds and she feels flush.

“Yeah,” she says, letting her gaze wander back to meet Bruce’s now bemused one again, one she can see pride bleeding into. “I think you might be right.”

“Go on now, Cheese Viking,” Dick’s saying as he nudges Damian in the general direction of the living room. He raises an eyebrow at both Bruce and Barbara as they’re the only ones left. “I miss something?”

“We were just talking about you,” Barbara offers, to which he scoffs.

“Of course,” he mutters. He eyes Bruce for a moment. “B…”

“That’s Grandpa Bruce in a few short months, thank you,” he says, the timbre of his voice a little too thick. Barbara rests her hand at the small of Dick’s back as he straightens a little and Bruce glances between them. “As I was saying to Barbara, I’m proud of you both. You’re going to be great parents and this child is lucky to have you.”

“I think so too,” Dick says firmly. There’s nervousness and excitement and a whole myriad of emotions to coincide with it. He glances at Barbara. “But yeah, I think we’ll be okay.”

“I should very well hope so,” Alfred muses, poking his head back into the room. He still looks rather pleased as all get out, like he’s trying to hold in his own excitement and keep his composure. “However, should you require assistance…”

“You’re the first person I’m calling,” Barbara cuts in, shrugging at the other two. “What? I’m no fool.”

“Of course not.” Alfred folds his hands behind his back. “Shall I bring crab stuffed mushrooms with me?”

“As many as you can carry.” Beside her, Dick chuckles, and she has half a mind to tell him to go duck into the kitchen where he knows the rest of them are. There’s a small tinge of guilt that he didn’t get to enjoy one of his favorites, but she knows he’ll just shrug and tell her it was worth the sacrifice.

Cass and Damian end up dragging them back into the living room, the latter declaring there’s a chess match left unfinished. Dick cranes his neck over Tim’s shoulder to look at something on his phone—something about kidney beans and strawberries—and she lets Cass place a tentative hand on her stomach, though she tells her there’s still a few weeks yet before she really starts showing.

The drive back home feels longer than normal, and Dick jangles his keys to show off before they leave as she rolls her eyes and slides into the passenger seat. She’s out before they even make it to the highway.

Barbara jolts awake by the time he’s parking, and she rubs a hands down her face and thinks maybe falling asleep wearing mascara wasn’t the best idea. The ride up the elevator is quiet; Dick cracks his neck as she rests her head against his hip and dozes.

“Babs,” he says as the doors slide open and she hums. “We’re home.”

“It’s about time you started calling it that,” she says as he bends down and lets him slide an arm below her knees while hers loop around his neck. His smile is all teeth before he dips his head to kiss her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at seven weeks john's the size of a blueberry; at eight he's a kidney bean; and nine he's a strawberry.
> 
> dick and babs are just charting the growth of their baby by going through their pantry, apparently.

**Author's Note:**

> ok ok, so, no, maybe they didn't jump for joy at first, but i was... trying to be realistic(?) about that? i guess? because in this story they've only been "officially" together again for a few months, their lives are dangerous enough, and since they didn't think a baby was in the cards they never really planned on one anytime in the near future.
> 
> and then john said "lmao sup nerds"
> 
> in the long run, babs thinks breaking the news to dick could have gone a bit smoother, and i'm not going to say what happens in the next chapter because then i'll have to hold myself to it, LMAO.


End file.
